Going into Week 2

 So much rage in that last post!!!!! Lol. I'm not sorry for my rage, but I am sorry for the girl who felt that way. It was just 3 days ago, and yet so much has changed about how I feel, and yet I can still feel those fears lingering, albeit they are weaker now. 

I can't say exactly what has aided in this transition, but things definitely feel better now, if not by much then a little at least. I wake up wanting to see my flat mates, and I enjoy the warmth of their company more ravishingly now. This morning we shared a communal alarm clock - the half marathon outside our windows. 

We were awoken by the loud cheering and music outside of our hall. What luck on a Sunday morning! 

We joined in on the cheering, and even pulled chairs to huddle by the window. I smile at this memory - definitely a small memory I'll look back on fondly one day. 

There were even a group of runners in Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle costumes!!!! How cute!!!!!! We kept an eye out for more festive runners, and managed to even spot one wearing a Snoopy costume, and another - though I didn't see them and heard this from a friend - was wearing a tiger costume. 

The weekend has been fun aside from the sight of runners. Yesterday I went for the Malaysian Society's Give it a Go frisbee. Didn't really play much in highschool but I played enough to know that I liked the sport, and knew that I wanted to pursue it here in Cardiff once I got here. It was a sunny day in Bute Park, adding to the joy of it all. My legs still ache like I just did splits the whole day - but every time they do ache, they remind me of the joys from the day before :)

Sunny day in Bute Park!

Frisbeeeeeee!!!!

                                     

At home, I was never really much of a cook. I always felt intimidated by the thought of cooking up a meal, so whenever I did cook a meal for my family I'd decide to take a break and never do it again. But I find cooking to be very therapeutic here, and find myself doing it for almost every day of the week.  Today I made tomyam and rice and telur dadar for lunch, my monthly craving. It was good!! And my roommate ascertained me of it - she took 3 helpings for herself when I offered! Never knew I was that good of a cook guys. 

my lunch today :) 

All in all, it's been a good weekend alhamdulillah. Not to say I won't feel those negative feelings again, though I hope I won't, but if I do I hope I recognize that they're temporary and normal, because living in a foreign land is no easy feat; that alone should be rewarded with a clap on the back. For all the anak perantauans out there, I see you, I feel you, and I hug you virtually. We're living our dreams, guys! That pain we're feeling? A mixed package deal with our dreams. The only way out is through, my loves. 

Here's to spooky season babes!!! Have a great week :) 

The 1 Week Mark

 I haven't journaled in a month. It scares me. I used to journal all the time. Now whenever I look at my journal and the stationery I have for it I wonder how what to write about, and find that there is nothing in me I can dig up to write about. I feel myself slowly slipping away, shedding off this colourful skin I'd grown over the course of the last year and a half in my festivity. I long for those days. I long for me to come home. 

This Saturday will mark my 1 week of living in my uni halls of residence. It's a shared toilet and pantry flat. I can't tell what makes me hate this all even more - the shared toilet and kitchen that occasionally has their own drama, or the fact that I find myself a little lost without a hand to hold, that I feel like I've been left in the forest to fend for my own, only given a bloody night lamp to trot about with, no weapons. I look at my lecture slides and feel an immense desire to sleep away the next 3 years. 

Ungratefully, I wonder if this is where I should be at all. I recall my journal entry upon entering Taylor's, and being so sure then that it had been the right choice to be in Taylor's, and that that really was my home - and it turned out to be true. A year and a half flew by and I spent it being my favourite version of me. 

Now here I am in a foreign land, questioning my every being and wanting to scream at someone. I don't know. I just don't. I wish future me were here to grab me by the shoulders and tell me what needs to be done, whether I should go back or stick out the storm a little longer because the relief is soon coming. But the facts are clear; I haven't journaled in a month, haven't felt like I've had anything positive to write about in a month, other than the fact that I'm trying out my dream of living abroad, but even then I can't seem to cheer over it as much. 

Childishly put - I just want a friend. Someone to depend on, someone to feel depended on.